


Take My Place

by staringatstars



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003)
Genre: Gen, Horror Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 12:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4960177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staringatstars/pseuds/staringatstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things start to get a little spooky during the time Leo and Mikey are left home alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take My Place

Even though it was home, the lair could still be a frightening place. Water fell constantly from cracks in the ceiling, steady and slow. The pipes that ran through the walls had a tendency to occasionally groan like tormented souls, and the air had a constant damp, musty quality to it that could sink into your bones if you let it. Most days, the lair was too noisy for any of that to even register. Yelling, training, playing video games – there wasn’t any time to be frightened of a few eerie sounds when there was always something better for Michelangelo to devote his attention to.

On this particular day, Master Splinter was visiting the Daimyo in Japan, leaving the brothers largely unsupervised. Well, unsupervised if you didn’t count Leo. He’d been against Raph and Don leaving that morning to gather supplies from the landfill, but Don had insisted that they’d be back in no time at all, and Raph needed the fresh air. Even Leo realized keeping him cooped up any longer was the fastest road to another fight. The dude was a caged animal. If they didn’t let him out every now and then, someone was going to get their head chewed off.

Ever since they’d left six hours ago, Leo hadn’t left his room. And though Mike had tried a few times to coax him out with food or the promise of a corny martial arts movie, the result was always the same: a polite, barely audible refusal. Now, Michelangelo hadn’t exactly expected him to leap for joy or anything when it turned out it’d be just the two of them for a few hours, during which they might actually get to spend some quality time with each other that didn’t involve fighting for their lives or training, but being brushed off completely would push even the buttons of those Buddhist warrior monks he admired so much. 

So, Michelangelo locked himself in his own room, where he could focus on gluing together the final pieces of the model racecar Don had salvaged for him last time they went hunting for supplies together. Since the storm meant he and Raph were most likely hunkering down at April’s to ride out the worst of it, he had a little more time to finish the model before Don got home. He was actually really looking forward to seeing the look on Don’s face when he realized that his hyperactive younger brother had actually managed to sit down and concentrate long enough to assemble the sleek miniature Corvette.

Grinning to himself, he imagined suddenly shrinking down to a couple inches, hopping behind the steering wheel, and driving his sweet new ride around the lair.

Then again, on second thought, there were a lot of things that could go wrong with that plan. Mikey let out a heavy sigh as he mourned the loss of that particular dream to Raph’s oversized feet. With his elbows planted firmly on the table, he dropped his head on his hands, narrowed blue eyes fixed on the mostly finished project with a hint of frustration boiling beneath the surface. Even though it was so close to completion, he was bored. It was the sort of boredom that gave birth to some of his best pranks, but whereas Raph’s reaction to his antics was immediate, violent, loud, and over as quickly as it started. Deep down, the big guy didn’t actually like being in a bad mood, and a prank was often an effective break from all the seriousness in their lives that it helped break him out of whatever funk he was sinking into.

Leo, on the hand, was far more likely to respond with ‘I expected more from you’ lectures and a frigid attitude that could last the entire week if he worked himself up to it. Often, Mikey would wonder if Leo had a third, secret katana hidden in a less than comfortable place. You know, for emergencies.

"Achoo!"

Startled, Michelangelo sat up straighter in his seat, then arched his body towards the door, listening eagerly for the source of the noise as he brainstormed on how he could best use this recent development to lighten up the afternoon. Another sneeze, muffled this time, followed the first.

One of the perks of living in a sewer was dust didn’t really bother them, allergies were pretty much non-existent, and their immune systems, adapting to conditions which could only be described as damp despite Master Splinter’s best efforts, were nigh impenetrable. To put it simply, they never got sick. And yet, a wet, rattling cough traversed the space between their rooms, ruthlessly wiping the smirk off the orange-banded turtle’s face.

Tentatively, he knocked on the wall, knowing his older brother would hear it if the racket he was kicking up hadn’t rendered him deaf, already. “Hey, Leo? You alright, man?”

“MIKEY!” answered his brother’s voice from the kitchen, shocking him so badly his elbow jerked, crashing into his model car and flinging its pieces across the floor. To his dismay, some of them slid under his bed, lost forever. He never found anything once it was under the bed. Donnie said that didn’t mean it was a portal to a parallel dimension but, honestly, which was more likely? That the objects lost under his bed magically disappeared or that they were being transported to an alternate dimension?

Exactly.

“MICHELANGELO!” bellowed the voice again, “THERE’S SOMETHING I NEED TO SHOW YOU!” Well, in general, this was weird. Leo didn’t do shouting. Not outside of battle, at least, where he didn’t have to raise his voice to be heard over the grunts and screeching metal that functioned as their background music. And though those weren’t necessarily bad sounds, a pop song every now and then would not go unappreciated.

Grumbling under his breath that he was owed a new model car and a soundtrack, Michelangelo pushed back his chair so he could go see whatever it was Leo wanted. It was only after he’d exited his room that he realized he’d never heard the door to his older brother’s room open. Just as he was preparing a perfectly reasonable explanation for this, the door to his brother’s room flew out open. From out of it stumbled Leonardo, who swayed as though he was intoxicated. His eyelids fluttered, his face gray as he latched onto Michelangelo’s arm. “Leo? What? I just heard you call from the kitchen,” Mike noted the way his voice rose a few octaves higher and winced. “How-“

“I heard it, too.” He shook his head to clear it, unconsciously tightening his grip. “It sounds like me. I don’t know what’s going on,” a rasping, wheezing sound emanated from his chest, “but that’s not me. Don’t go out there, Mike.”

With as much gentleness as he could manage, Michelangelo pulled his arm out of his brother’s grasp so he could set him on the ground efore he collapsed. There wasn’t a cell in him that wanted to leave Leo’s side. Everything about leaving his big brother weak and scared in a dark hallway left him with a burning in his mouth, a churning in his gut that brought to mind bad sushi and Donnie’s cooking. “I’ll be right back, bro. You have to trust me on this.” And Mike knew how out of it he was when he tried to move, anyway, a whimper he probably didn’t even notice sneaking its way past his defenses. “Honestly,” with something approaching a smile on his face, Michelangelo allowed himself a low, rueful chuckle, “one Leo is more than enough stubborn to take care of, so sit tight and wait for me to give the all clear.”

Clearly not listening, Leo struggled to find his footing, only to be pushed back down again when a rustling sound made its way back to them from the kitchen. Since he couldn’t risk Leo crawling his way into danger, Mike lifted him up with a grunt, ignored the palms that batted harmlessly at his shoulders and face, carried him into his room, and then deposited him on his bed like a sleeping toddler. “Night, Leo,” he quipped to the physical embodiment of frustration in front of him, then beat a hasty exit.

As he walked towards the kitchen, Mikey wondered with a guilty pang if Leo couldn’t take his time getting better. Maybe being sick would force him to get some actual rest for once, instead of the ever-vigilant stand-by mode he’d come to substitute it with. There was even a chance that some actual rest would bring back some of the old Leo, the one who could not only take a joke, but even told one every now and then. The one that knew how important it was to keep their family safe without forgetting that there was more to life than just surviving it. Sure, a long life was important, but if you never enjoyed yourself while you lived, then what was the point? Even if the Shredder never managed to take their lives away, if they allowed the mere memory of what he could have done to them drive them nuts with paranoia, it was still his victory. Once upon a time, Leo knew that.

As he edged his way into the kitchen, Mikey wasn’t sure was he expecting to see – a Foot soldier? A robot? An alien? A robotic Foot alien?

All those options seemed infinitely more possible than what he actually ran into. “Hi.” A creature that looked exactly like his brother, right down to the mask and scars, said.

“Hi,” Mikey echoed. This Leo was scrambling some eggs over the stove, his eyes bright and happy. Next to him, the toaster was imploding, smoke billowing from its wires in a cloud thick enough to set off most of the fire alarms in New York. And as much as he wanted to applaud it for trying to annoy Monster Leo, as he would now and forever be called, Mike had a feeling it didn’t care that this particular Leo was a fake. It just didn’t discriminate between them, hating them all equally.

Choking out a cough, Mikey lunged forward to unplug the metal menace before it could fulfill its most ardent desire and burn the lair down. Unfazed by Mike’s momentary bout of panic, Monster Leo continued scraping his egg off the bottom of the pan. A closer look revealed the egg had burned to a crisp some time ago, leaving nothing behind except an unrecognizable black mass.

Panicking, Mikey inwardly screamed, _He even cooks like Leo!_

Since letting the monster know you were on to it was always a bad move in horror movies, Mike reached out to turn off the stove, letting out a weak chuckle as he did. “Think you cooked those eggs enough, Leo? Safe some heat for the sun.”

For a few seconds, Monster Leo didn’t react beyond a sudden tensing of his muscles. Then the scraping sound of the wooden spoon against the pan ceased. Slowly, he redirected his focus. “Hi Michelangelo!”

“Uh, hi?” They’d already said hello to each other. Did he forget? Was this like Leo’s opposite or something, so his memory was bad and he was kind of a ditz? That could be fun, actually. Thinking back, he remembered Master Splinter telling him about something like this. It was a myth about people that looked exactly like you, and if you ran into them…

Well, there were plenty of different encounters with look-alikes in mythology, with tons of versions of what could occurr after the ill-fated meeting. They all had one thing in common, though. The result was never good news for the original.

“So, Leo,” Mikey began, struggling to keep his voice light and airy in the face of Monster Leo’s unnerving smile, “Raph and Don have been out for a while, don’t you think? Maybe you should go out and look for them? I’ll, uh, guard the lair.” Thunder rumbled in the sky over them as rain continued to pound on the asphalt.

Monster Leo tilted his head quizzically. “You want me to go out in _that?_ ” The sheer incredulousness in his tone was so much like the real Leo that Michelangelo had to force down a shudder, opting for a somewhat strained grin instead.

“Come on, this isn’t like you, bro. Since when do you let a little rain stop you from being leaderful?” _Please leave. Please leave. Please leave._ Pushing him towards the exit, Michelangelo added with desperation flowing under the surface of his largely upbeat tone, “Go show those naughty delinquents who’s boss. I’ll wait here.”

Suddenly, Mikey felt Monster Leo dig his heels in. He gave him another hard shove, but the thing didn’t budge. It was like trying to push a cinderblock. “That’s not a good idea, Michelangelo. You and I both know you’d lock me out.”

Gulping, Mikey squeaked, “What? Me? Why, Leo, I’m hurt by the very accusation.”

“Hurt? No, I wouldn’t say you’re hurt.” Monster movies had prepared him for this moment. The moment when the monster revealed its true colors. Filled with resolve, Mikey reached deep within himself for the loudest, most girlish scream he could muster. “But that’s a quick fix.”

As it turned out, his head was gripped from the back and plowed into solid concrete before he could even work up a good scream. What a let down. Groaning, he turned to the side to spit out a wad of blood. “I hope you’re ready to pay for my dental bills, dude.” Blinking black spots out of his vision, he caught a glimpse of his own silhouette, hard and definite on the wall. It wasn’t the sight of his shadow that chilled the air in his lungs, though. It was the realization that Monster Leo was standing right next to him, not even attempting to force his distorted facial features into something approaching friendly anymore, but there was only one shadow hovering over the wall.

Following his gaze, Monster Leo said, “Strange, isn’t it? I’m exactly like Leonardo in every way, yet I don’t have a shadow of my own.”

“That'd be cuz shadows don't get their own shadows. Everyone knows that.” Doppelgangers weren’t supposed to be real. They were made up monsters Master Splinter told them about when they begged him for a scary bedtime story, when they’d insisted they could handle it because they weren’t babies anymore... and then huddled together in a frightened, sleepless ball for the rest of the night. 

“Actually,” corrected Leo’s double, “parasite would be a more accurate description than shadow at this point. I’m syphoning off your brother’s life force, after all. Pretty soon, he’s not going to have enough left to sustain him.”

“Wanna bet?” They twisted around to see real Leo standing in the doorway with one of his unsheathed katanas pointed directly at the double’s heart. “Step away from my brother and maybe you won’t have to die today.” The threat was a good one, but the delivery needed some work. As far as Michelangelo could tell, Leo fully believed he’d win in a fight, which meant he’d have to check his older brother for a raging fever once this was over. His muscles were bunched in a tight, restrained way, as though most of his focus was being spent on not showing weakness in front of an enemy, his voice had a congested quality to it that made it sound like he was fighting off a head cold, and his legs were locked at the knees, arm trembling slightly due to the strain of holding his sword.

All signs pointed to standing upright and holding up his arm being the best Leo could manage at the moment, which meant Mikey only had one thing to say, “I’d leave if I were you, ugly.” A slight frown formed on his real brother’s face at the insult. Well, at least he was still thinking clearly enough to be offended. That's a good sign, right? “Leo can totally kick your butt.”

The doppelganger blinked at that, honestly confused. “You do remember what I said, don't you? He’s barely alive.”

“Or maybe he has more life in him than you know.” Picking up an accent he’d heard in a movie he’d only seen about a thousand times, Mikey continued, “It’s possible he’s bluffing. It’s conceivable that the reason he hasn’t moved from that doorway is because he’s actually weak as a kitten and he’ll fall if he takes another step.” Not understanding that his younger brother was helping, in the loosest sense of the word, Leo made a face that suggested he was going to be offended by that statement for the rest of his life. “Or… perhaps he has the strength, after all.” When Leo didn’t move from his spot, and in fact sagged a little, Michelangelo turned to Monster Leo, who honestly looked as underwhelmed by the whole thing as he was, and whispered, “Look, he’s just having an off day. He’s usually a lot cooler.”

“Mikey,” Leo rumbled threateningly, “I am going to burn that movie.”

“Gasp! You wouldn’t dare!”

Before Leo could retort, his knees gave out. He slammed against the ground like a dead weight, not moving even after Mikey screamed his name. The doppelganger made a grab for him when he launched himself forward, but if it and Leo were really alike in every way, then Michelangelo was still faster. He darted deftly out of the way, pushed off the ground until he was air bound, flipped, bent his knees, perched on the outer edge of the couch long enough to regain his bearings, then leapt to Leo’s side. “Leo?” There had to be something he could do. “Get up, bro. Now’s not a good time to fall asleep.” His eyelids fluttered, a groan issuing from his mouth.

With one eye opened, he managed to lift his beak in a grim smile. “Hey, Mikey.” His name sounded more like a death rattle than the reassurance it was meant to be. It didn’t take a genius to realize Leo was very nearly gone, and he knew it. Of course he did. He was always willing to accept death as long as he was the one dying, but if any of them so much as managed to get a paper cut, he’d somehow managed to rain dishonor upon every ancestor in their family, including the single-celled ones.

His eyes darted slid towards the exit, begging him to run. To leave him behind. Because this was a supernatural creature they had no idea how to defeat, because their brothers needed to be warned, and because Leo didn’t think he could die knowing his little brother was going to be struck down by a monster with his face.

“You know,” Mikey muttered almost contemplatively as Leo continued to wordlessly beg him to leave, “I never realized you were this dumb.” Leo raised an eye ridge questioningly, clearly meaning to ask if he might want to rethink what could quite possibly end up being the last words he ever said to him. “You’re just…” The doppelganger grinned down at them, looking healthier and happier the actual Leo ever did. He was enjoying watching him die. While his attention was fully focused on witnessing his brother’s last breaths, Mikey’s fingers found the hilt of the katana he’d drawn. In one swift motion, he slashed Monster Leo across the plastron with enough force to slice through bone. Under the force of his swing and the lovingly sharpened edge of Leo’s blade, the doppelganger’s plastron split, allowing the sword to bite into his core before the swing was complete. He stumbled backwards, a wispy substance flowing from the crack resulting from Mikey’s attempt to cut him in half.

Though the wildness of his eyes betrayed his fear, the ever-present calmness never left his voice when he stared at Michelangelo in disbelief and said, “I possess all of Leonardo’s memories. How did you still manage to surprise me?”

“I’m full of surprises. It’s what keeps my brothers on their toes.” Accepting this answer, Monster Leo watched silently as Michelangelo turned to check on his brother. “He’s not waking up.” With tears in his eyes, Mikey choked out, “Why isn’t he waking up?”

“He’s just exhausted.” Monster Leo reassured him. “Once the life force I’ve collected fully returns to him, he’ll be good as new.” Skeptical of the doppelganger’s helpfulness, Mikey questioned why he was being so nice. After pondering that for a moment, Monster Leo replied, “Like I said before, I have all of Leonardo’s memories.” Experimentally, he poked at the gash on his chest, accelerating the flow of the glimmering energy streaming from it. The energy drifted higher, then abruptly changed course. With every breath, Leo’s body absorbed more of it, and his breathing became easier, less labored. “As you can see, I don’t actually possess a heart. But with so much of your brother flowing through me, it kind of felt like I was him. It only lasted an instant, but I still remember what it felt like to care about my – _his_ brothers.”

He hunched in on himself, the constant grin on his face a distant memory, replaced by something small and sad and maybe a little frightened. Without anything to sustain it, his body was already beginning to fade. “Was there any way to save both of you?” 

“No. It was always either him or me. Even if I’d wanted to - and I didn’t - I wouldn’t have been able to stop draining his life force. The only way to stop the transfer was for one of us to die. You made the right decision, Mikey.” Mikey’s head shot up, mouth slightly agape, to see his older brother smiling gently back at him. “I’m really proud of you.”

Unthinkingly, Mikey reached out, a single cry escaping when his floundering fingers passed straight through his plastron. Just as Leo gasped, his entire body arching with the force of the air rushing back into his lungs, the life pouring back into his body, the doppelganger dissolved into mist.

Without a word, Michelangelo picked his brother up, making sure to cradle his head on the crook of his elbow so it didn’t loll, and carefully set him on the couch. With any luck, he’d think the whole encounter was a bad dream, fueled by the tempest both inside and out. Once Leo had his head propped up on a pillow and a blanket pulled all the way up to his chin, Michelangelo retreated back to his room, where the model car Don had gotten for him could be found still scattered across the floor. He had half a mind to give up, throw it out, turn on a mindless video game, and veg until his brothers returned. Instead, he picked up a wheel, examining it critically as he turned it over between his fingers, dusted himself off, and got back to work.


End file.
